


fragile bones

by woahpip



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Rare Pair, Vignettes, sometimes i get really caught up thinking about these 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27310771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woahpip/pseuds/woahpip
Summary: It takes her awhile to notice, but he still has tells.He still feels.
Relationships: Davits Draven/Mon Mothma
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	fragile bones

Even in her own private journals, Mon Mothma denied any relationship with the man. Draven didn’t tell her specifically not to—he knew she kept private logs, never stayed long enough to see her write in one— but he often implored her to remember that much of their security rests on their secrets.

She didn’t want to flatter herself by thinking he couldn’t bare for her to be used against him. It was bigger than that.

Politicians have to smile and do things they don’t want to. They cannot react to meanness, but must remember it and use it later. Mothma has perfected her _smiles,_ ones for when she truly disagrees, one for when she hates the person (and she does hate, despite how she never voices it), one for when she wants to leave a situation immediately but cannot.

A thousand others, all slightly varied in meaning and important to every cause she’d ever championed. There was a genuine smile left somewhere in her body, though she can’t remember the last time she used it.

At beginning of their…affair, she guessed it could be called, she felt like a teenager.

 _Doesn’t everyone ache to be wanted_ , she thought.

She was still a human, with fragile bones and everything that entails.

Afterwards when they would lay together, she felt his deep breaths were as close as she would ever be to affecting him. It didn’t matter if he wanted her in a way that went beyond hidden meetings. They could never be.A war rested on them, weaknesses in their army and their council and themselves already piling up.

Mothma didn’t want to be selfish. Whenever her brain whispered _what is one more,_ she ignored it.

*

There’s a morning where they are both early to the mess hall. They never get breakfast afterwards; she feels like a girl on a first date. That feeling multiplied when he didn’t mention taking separate hallways or eating later. He held the door for her and she cursed her rising blush.

The mess hall was empty except for the early morning watch team, eating before they took over for the day. They sat together, all in various stages of waking. Some snoozed, heads on the table, others speaking loudly over one another. Laughter had broke out from some joke, until they noticed Draven and Mothma.

The hush was oppressive. It only lasted a few seconds but she felt the implication.

She rushed to fix her caf, stirring in sugar crystals.

“Gossips,” Draven said, still close to her side.

She wasn’t sure what to say, afraid the wrong answer would make him call _them_ off altogether.

“Let them have their fun,” she settled.

He snorted and reached over her for a cup.

They both only grabbe protein bars, but sat together in a corner of the mess. A strip of sunlight fell over her face. She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath. It felt good; a little reminder of what she has to fight for.

Everyone should be able to have mornings like this.

She opened her eyes and Draven averted his gaze from her like he’d been staring. His jaw clenched, throat bobbing with a slight gulp. Every hope she ever felt was in that tiny movement.

He stood to leave and cast his shadow over her.

“We have a meeting later this afternoon,” is all he said.

She nodded and gave a real smile. The unfamiliarity of it hurt her teeth.

*

The first time Mon Mothma fell in love, she felt like she couldn’t be touched enough. Her parents hugged but they were never overly touchy. They told each other “love you” but sometimes it felt blank, something they said because they were supposed to.

She fell in love and wanted to touch him at every moment, holding hands or legs pressed tightly against the other. She was held tightly; it might be the only time in her life she felt like a solid thing.

Those feelings were rising again, dumb things grown women should ignore.

Discussing Operation Fracture was secretive, hidden from even their closest allies in the Alliance until they could get their plan together. A few of Draven’s people were drip fed informationas they tried to feel out who would be best for the job. Her Chief of Staff knew; she found them the secretive meeting rooms and helped Mothma make sense of the piles of notes and correspondence that had piled up.

And her Chief of Staff had to know that something else was happening, but she was too kind (or smart maybe) to say anything.

One night they were late in her office, starshine glowing through the window. The bright overhead lights were exacerbating a rare headache Mothma had, blooming over her skull. She tried to not to show it but she kept wincing. It had been a long day and there was still much to go over. Jyn Erso would be delivered the next day and their plan would be set in motion.

Instead of sitting behind her desk, she sat beside Draven in one of two stuffed chairs drug from her old Senate office. Out of nowhere he reaches out and grabs her wrist.

“Do we need to stop for the evening?”

She shook her head, regretting the movement. She knew he saw the wince.

“We still have things to discuss. I do…I have a headache. Maybe we can turn off the overhead lights?”

He immediately rose, turning off the bright white lights and turning on a standing lamp beside the desk. Before sitting down he fished something out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“A medicine sachet?”

“For your headache. Should help.”

She swallowed the gritty powder quickly with a drink of water.

“That’s kind of you,” she said. She looked back at her notes, trying to remember what they were discussing, trying not to wish he’d grab her wrist again.

*

Seeing him approach Cassian after their meeting filled her with a mix of dread and anger. They had just said everything they needed to say about the mission hadn’t they?

“That looked like a serious conversation,” Mothma said. She’d practiced her whole life at staying calm and keeping her voice even, not letting her true feelings bleed through.

He tilted his head and look at her like he dared her to get _mad_.

“Just reiterating the points of the mission. Now excuse me.”

He rushes to leave and brushes her shoulder, fluttering her robes.

They had talked about this. Galen Erso needed to be alive, to speak in front of their council, their army. He could help them understand the schematics, make sense of them, and make a plan.

Draven had even said they could use his “engineering expertise” on some of their own weapons.

Liar. She realized it now that it was too late. She had the training to catch political lies, but he was trained beyond her expertise. It grated. She spent her day trying not to be wounded and angry.

When ame into her office for their usual debrief like nothing was wrong, it set her off.

“You didn’t tell Captain Andor to bring Galen back alive. You lied to me.”

“You’re not stupid enough to think we can win this without violence.”

“I support a military. I support your Intelligence sector. I know that violence happens.”

He stepped closer to her. His voice was low and his brows scrunched together. He looked normal to anyone but her. She got to see him tired and annoyed. Not a droid after all, like some officers say.

He didn’t touch her but he was close. Almost there.

“You don’t know all the things that happen to keep the Alliance going. To keep us all safe. You think you’ve only had one death threat? Our fucking spooks have stopped plans against your life before and after that moment. And other generals, and Senator Organa. Enemies just don’t show themselves on the battlefield, they will try to meld themselves to us and then destroy from the inside.”

“Isn’t the Death Star enough?” she said, almost breaking.

He breathed but didn’t answer. His breath was cool against her clammy forehead. She looked up, straining to look him in the eyes, but she refused look away first.

“No.” He does not spare any nice words.

He left without saying goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> epilogue to this is incoming...soon?
> 
> <3


End file.
